


In Fear of Letting Go

by CosmeerSpots



Series: Wondrous Wanders [7]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Closure, Gen, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort, I mean kinda? kinda., Ill be honest Idk how I feel about this fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Wondrous Wanders AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmeerSpots/pseuds/CosmeerSpots
Summary: They haven’t visited the Blue Lake ever since... Well, anyway, they have to say their goodbyes
Relationships: The Knight & Quirrel (Hollow Knight)
Series: Wondrous Wanders [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681615
Comments: 20
Kudos: 108





	In Fear of Letting Go

The City of Tears is so quiet nowadays.

Without Infected husks to roam the place, to groan their suffering, the rain is the only thing to grace the city with sound. Walking through the halls became quite different horror story to what it used to be, too. On every corner, dead body. Infection stains, guts, regrets… Not a centimeter is clean of them.

That's why Ghost doesn't enjoy entering the buildings. Sure, they've been to the city plenty times after beating the Radiance, but they always have a clear goal set in their mind. It’s either Lemm or Ogrim, the only living bugs in this damned place. Both of which homes are clean of the terrors of apocalypse's consequences.

...Now that they think about it, they probably could have gone through Resting Grounds. They facepalm hard and internally groan. Of course. Of course they realize there’s better option when they are too far from the Stag station to turn around. Gods, whatever, they think as they nudge a corpse of another sentry away with their nail.

Emotional cold washes over their heart and entire being, anyway, when they remind themselves of just where they are going. And why.

Blue Lake… They… They've steered clear of that place for so long now...

They enter the elevator that will take them up to Resting Grounds. Halfheartedly, they hit the lever and let themselves sink down to the ground while the machine starts pulling itself up, back resting against the cage making up the walls.

Is this even a good idea…?

Hornet assured them that it is. Then told them they'd be kind of a hypocrite if they didn't go. After all, they made her reunite with the shades. Bugs she  _ killed. _ While they are just going to visit a friend. There’s definitely less danger involved in their affair. They guess she’s right... She also threatened to web them up and throw them across the entire lake if they wouldn't go and that mostly settled it.

“Go and get your closure, share your parting words even if the silence will be the only witness, dummy,” she said. Closure… That sounded great. There’s not enough of that in this world.

Then they asked Hollow for an opinion. Which went… as well as one would expect.

Ghost  _ did _ get an answer- agreement with sister, it was. It just took long. But what is losing time compared to helping family? Their twin needs a little bit of pushing, a lot of reassuring. Practice makes perfect, however, and giving them space and opportunities to explore their new freedom is the least Ghost can do for them.

Sentences like ’It’s alright’, ’Everything is okay’, ’You are free’ and ’You are safe’ probably claimed the trophy of being the most spoken sentences in their life by now. They whisper them through the void connection between the two of them each day so many times they've lost count. Not like they never tell them to Hornet, too. Surprisingly- or maybe not so much- she needs to hear those things, too.

Never could they be mad about that, though. They have no problem of becoming a void version of a broken record for their siblings. Hell, they started saying them even in the night. When their siblings and kids slept and when they couldn’t, they'd sit on the edge of the nest and keep promising safety and love to ears deaf with deep slumber. Because how could they not? This the first time in  _ forever _ since they had someone to take care of.

The Wastelands gave them many experiences. Many sights. They've seen giant plants reaching to heavens and maybe even further. They've met bugs that glowed soft yellow between leaves as they played. They've heard many stories, many songs that they still hum from time to time in their mind. They've flown in things called  _ hot air balloons.  _ Those are probably the most glorious things they've ever seen and their wings slightly itch as they recall the winds blowing past them, between their claws and horns. They've smelled sea, they've felt bitter cold of frozen towns, they've walked across rope bridges that somehow stretched for miles, further than they could see. They've experienced it all, they've put the wonders into their journals in form of notes and drawings. They  _ remember. _

But the most important thing the Wastelands haven't given them, was the knowledge of companionship. Of familial love- of  _ any _ love, really, sure they had something akin to friends, but- and that's something they needed even if they didn't know.

So now that they have their twin back, now that they have younger sister and four kids they proudly call their own, they finally get to taste words of love on their metaphoric tongue. And that makes them happy more than any fantasy that showed itself to them on their travels ever did.

The elevator creaks as it abruptly comes to a stop, shaking them out of their thoughts. They are here. They take a deep breath.

Okay. Fine. Alright! It's gonna be absolutely alright!! They beat up a  _ god _ . Sitting down for a while next to a nail buried in sands and saying some words can't be harder. It just can't! Okay, maybe the emotional difficulty of the act is a little bit higher, but still. This is fine. They are going to do this and that's that on that.

Ghost keeps sitting for a while longer, though.

They stand up on shaky legs at some point. They grip the bars making up the elevator walls to ground themselves. It’s okay. They rest their forehead against the cold metal. It’s fine. They don't even have a  _ reason _ to feel this strongly, that's the worst part of this. Yes, yes, Quirrel was the first bug in  _ forever _ that showed them as much care and kindness without being prompted as he did. But that doesn't- It doesn't mean-

A sigh leaves them. Just a small exhale of air that nobody could ever hear. Let’s just get this over with.

Slowly, they take the first step out of the elevator. Clenching their fists, they gather their courage, willpower and stubbornness. They have to at least say their goodbye.

The walk to the entrance to the Blue Lake is as uneventful as almost any journey through the kingdom after dispatching the Infection. That's good, because Ghost doesn't think they could handle a fight well right now. The silence of the caves is both a blessing and a curse. The nothingness is soothing, familiar, in a way it’s a beautiful safety. But the whirlwind of their thoughts is one of the biggest torture instruments they've ever know. Doubts and fear are gnawing at them and they just can’t seem to put a stop to it.

They've been through worse, though. This is nothing. Every pain once passes, be it emotional, physical or mental. They've been living by that sentence for  _ ages _ and they are not about to change their philosophy now.

Ghost is mostly worried about  _ what _ they are even going to  _ actually _ do when they'll finally stand on the shore. They don't have a voice. They can’t make a sound. Their words are those of mind, not of vocal chords. Can the dead hear minds? Can they hear hearts? One of their hands rests on their chest, right over their heart. The heartbeat is faint, achingly slow. Now they know why.

They should be dead. They  _ are _ dead in a sense. They are a walking  _ corpse  _ filled with the darkest  _ emptiness _ the world knows. Pulse shouldn’t be something for them to possess.

...Would Quirrel hear their undead heart in afterlife?

The living do hear it. At least, the bugs that have laid their heads on their chest did. Hornet hears it every time they pull her in for a close hug when she breaks, when she weeps, when she hurts. She says it helps to calm her tears. Grimmchild and the Weaverlings love to lie on them, especially when they can’t find their slumber. Even Hollow has reached out many times to rest their giant shaking hand over Ghost’s entire thorax, searching for the rhythm of their life. It’s the evidence of how  _ real _ the reality truly is. No dream. No pain. Just steady and slow heartbeat of a sibling.

Ghost looks up in front of themselves as the rocky ground of the Resting Grounds give away to pale sands. The nail still stands. Proudly, menacingly. Sadly.

They hang their head down, their shoulders slump as they walk forward. Their gaze snaps up, they jump back in shock and their wings flare up as the sound of spirit waking up fills the air.

...What…?

There he stands. There he floats.

...Why…?

He's looking straight at them, he tips his head slightly down in polite greetings.

_...How…? _

“Hello, dear friend!” Quirrel, or his spirit, or his lasting memory, waves at them, as if he isn’t dead. As if he isn’t  _ gone. _ His voice is cheerful as ever and the only thing that keeps them aware that he isn't truly here is how muffled his voice is. As if he is under water.  _ Drowning. Losing precious bubbles of air. _

“Why don't you come over and sit for a while?” He asks and they aren’t in control of their limbs as they move to rest next to the nail and the spectre. He sits with them, legs crossed and hands in his lap.

Silence stretches for uncomfortably long while. Ghost doesn't know what to do. They weren’t ready for this, they thought- they- just… what?

Finally, they gather enough courage to look at him again. He's looking over the Lake. Over his grave. Somber expression painting his features. And then he looks at them. And for, probably, the first time, Quirrel doesn't try to lie to them by putting on a smile. They'd like to see him smile one more time, but what are fake grins if not traps full of knives and lies?

“I suppose you came to say goodbye…?” Reluctantly, they nod and he laughs softly. “I've waited just for exactly that, would you believe? I didn't really want to leave without seeing the little mysterious wanderer again.”

Then why did you decide to walk to the bottom of the Lake when I was gone?, they ask and by gods they  _ wish _ and they  _ hope _ he can hear them. Judging by the way he's staring? Quirrel heard.

“I…-”

_ Quirrel,  _ **_why_ ** _?, _ they don't notice the few tears streaming down their face. They are too angry, too sad, too hurt.

He instinctively reaches out, to attempt and comfort them, just like he has done before. He jerks away before his hand can pass through them. “I don't- I cannot. I can’t tell you sorry. Apologies wouldn't be truthful here.”

Ghost can just stare at him.  _ Explain yourself _ , they say just by their eyes.

“I suppose it’s kind of funny-

It is  _ not. _ , they reply, because they don't want to hear that word near this entire situation.

“It’s not, true, yes.” Quirrel sighs. Just how does one explain something like this? Is it even possible to justify his actions? “I've felt my age, my past clawing on my back, dear friend. It was, and still is, so so painful to remember anything just when I lost everything.”

I was still here, I didn't want you to leave.

“Mm.” He nods slowly. His head moves up and down and then back to them. “I guess I don't really have any reasoning, then. But do tell, what would you have me to do?”

They want to say many things. They want to say that he could've gone with them, to Dirtmouth, find a home, find someone to hold on to life with. Ghost wouldn't mind being that someone, too. Maybe they'd lead him to Lemm, or Ogrim or maybe Sheo. Sheo helped the Nailsmith, they are sure he could do the same for Quirrel. But… None of it  _ feels _ right. Perhaps that is because they do know what Quirrel means and what he cannot put words to.

Quirrel takes their silence as an answer. Which is probably for the better, which is probably right. “Losing sense in the world… I find that one of the cruelest things to happen. What is a scholar without place to find their purpose? What is a wanderer without any wanderlust left in them? What is entire life worth, if you can’t seem to find a reason for it?”

The worst thing about this is that Ghost agrees with him. He's right and they know it. After all, they alone were created with only one purpose. Hollow struggles with this more than them. They'd understand Quirrel possibly much better than Ghost ever will be able to.  _ Ghost _ found a way to fill their soul with places. Same had Quirrel.

But they never really  _ forgot _ who they were. They didn't know exactly, but the first ten encounters with their shade confirmed that they simply weren’t a normal bug. They never forgot darkness at the beginning, masks scattered and broken, small bodies teared apart, the fall after they've reached out after light and  _ sibling.  _ Darling, darling sibling.

They never forgot. Not really, anyway. Quirrel did. And when it all came rushing back, they, in the same moment, ended life of someone who used to be closest to him. They would try to leave life behind, too, were they in his place.

Still, they don't want to let him go.

“Say, why don't we just sit for a while longer? Before time for goodbyes will come?”

Quiet sigh leaves them as they lean against a stone, rubbing under their eyes, trying to get rid of streaks left after inky tears.

I’d very much like that…

First moments are spent in silence which they can’t give a name to. Was it uncomfortable one? A necessary silence, or? They end up pulling out their journal after Ghost decides that the quiet won't do for last moments. No matter how heavy their heart feels, talking should help.

Turns out, Quirrel has been to many same kingdoms as they. Have you been to the kingdom where they worship silk and song? How about the one with gods with shiny scales that live in clear waters? Have you tasted the fine sugar bugs from far far west make? Have you heard about plants growing out of shallow, controlled ponds, layered on top of each other, divided by grass, that are native to eastern lands?

Yes, yes, yes and yes.

Oh! And how beautifully have you drawn the towns, friend! And oh, how beautifully you speak of the homes in midst of clouds. Why, thank you. And, well, how kind of you to say.

And when Ghost runs out of places they've found and explored, they take out the separate journal they have for Hallownest. Just to share their opinions with some of the foes they had to face.

The Husk Guards really could pack a punch, couldn’t they? How delicious the Lifeseeds were… Have you heard the maskflies sing in the evenings by Unn’s Lake? Oh, just how annoying the sporgs and primal aspids were! Spawns from hell itself, I tell you!

Almost every bug receives a comment. Some go ignored, like the jellyfish from Fog Canyon, because that hurts Quirrel. Lightseeds, Infected Balloons and…  _ them, _ go ignored because it hurts Ghost.

When they get to last pages, Ghost makes sure to hide the ones about Void creatures and the fragments of Pale Court. They don't want to talk about those. They don't make any effort to hide their pages for Hornet and Hollow, though.

Long ago have they torn out the pages that made them look like enemies. Instead, they've decided to dedicate the last papers to small drawings of their dearest ones. They show and tell a story behind each doodle to Quirrel, who, this time, keeps quiet.

This one is from when Hollow and Hornet first saw sun rise above Dirtmouth. Their expressions were so sincere, so beautiful, so long lasting, that Ghost couldn’t keep themselves from drawing them. And this one is from when Hornet fell asleep at the window while weaving new cloak for the largest of the siblings. Here are Grimmchild and Weaverlings playing together. Just how proud they are of their little gremlins.

That's when Quirrel stops them for the first time. “While we are speaking of the small ones, I have a request.” They tilt their head at that. “The dead should not be burdened by things of the physical world. You know that I think that way. I ask of you to take my nail and perhaps gift it to one of the little ones in case they'd wish to learn the arts of nails.”

They suppose they can do that. Ghost doesn't really know how to feel about it. They love the kids with their entire undead heart, but giving away last thing they will have left of Quirrel… It is his decision, though. He spoke and his word should be the last on the matter. It will take some time for the children to grow enough, anyway, until one of them will be able to wield a weapon of such making.

So, reluctantly, they nod. And Quirrel thanks them.

Neither of them speaks after that. It just doesn't really feel right. They sit in silence, until Ghost starts fidgeting. They should go back home, so they wouldn't worry the others. But…

“It’s time.”

They don't want it to be.

Quirrel stands up and looks at them. “Come on, friend.”

No. No, no no. They don't want to. They have a mind and they have a heart and both of those tell them no.

Still, they stand. Still, they take out the Dream Nail.

Fellow wanderer bows his head, waits for a release.

They move to charge it, but, in fear of letting go, instead of striking, they collapse.  _ Why can’t they- _

Quirrel is on the ground next to them almost immediately. They wish so  _ much _ that spirits could touch reality. They wish for comforting hug  _ so much. _ But there’s no way for them to get it. There just isn't. They'll have to settle for words.

Water of the Blue Lake laps at the shore, calm and clear. The sand crunches under their hands as they flex their claws and Quirrel’s voice is soft and reassuring. They still long for warm touch, but it’s okay. The sounds will be enough. They don't really can choose anything else.

They take a deep breath and grip the talisman tighter before nodding. And Quirrel smiles. Softly, genuinely, like they have seen only few times before. That gives them the strength to rise back to their feet.

“Goodbye, my dear friend. I thank you for such wonderful last moments and I wish you peaceful joyous life.”

Ghost is still shaking, trembling as if they are the one about to pass away. Still they force their mind to speak.

So long, dear one. Thank you for lending your blade and power in fights, thank you for lending your wisdom, words and comfort. I’ll never forget.

Because forgetting is letting someone truly die. And Ghost wouldn't let that happen to Quirrel.

Blade of light shines as they charge it again, successfully this time. Their arms feel heavy when they strike, letting the scholar, the warrior, friend, Quirrel pass away fully. They'll forever treasure and remember the kind look and advice he offered them.

...

They stand on the shore for a long time, afterwards, not ready to just leave. The only thing that manages to pull them out of the trance is a small stray Lumafly that lands on the top of the nail buried in sands. They really should go, now. Siblings will be worried sick.

Carefully, they dislodge the nail from the ground, watching as the disturbed Lumafly flies away.

One more time, they look over the Blue Lake. They feel their shoulders slumping down.

They turn around and walk away, holding the weapon close, hoping Hornet nor Hollow won't pry and will just let them nuzzle close and hide under their cloaks when they come home.

**Author's Note:**

> -writes this instead of the second chap for dftb just bc I wanna make yall wait for it a bit-
> 
> This idea has been sitting in my Docs since like the beginning of April and honestly I wanted to have it done. But also Idk if Im happy with how it turned out,,,? I decided to just not think about it too much or else Id delete the whole thing and the time I put into it would be wasted and honestly I dont need That Feeling rn. Also my sister said its p okay and I trust her with my life, so I guess ┐(ಠ‿ಠ)┌


End file.
